


That Fortune Cookie Paper

by eggs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom!Bucky, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, a lot of fluff, bucky and steve are adorable specimens, maybe fluff and smut, stucky au, top!steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggs/pseuds/eggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's future was predicted by a fortune from a fortune cookie when he met his soon-to-be love interest and douchey high school mate who broke his lamp 10 years ago, all during his first day on the job at a retro diner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t have a fucking knife with me!” His voice died out over the sound of the horses’ footsteps.

“Come on, I have to save that golden boy up there” Bucky whispered to his white horse, wind blowing through her glittering mane. She galloped even faster. With one clean sweep of Bucky’s sword, blood came spilling out of the masked man’s neck and he fell to the ground, along with the golden boy as his horse goes berserk.

 “Hey you okay there?” Bucky reached out an arm for him to take.

He took his hand and Bucky hauled him up. “God I can’t believe this happened again. “What can I say? Maybe you just like being saved.”

“Oh you asshole.” He grinned, pulling Bucky into a not so heterosexual hug. “You know I will give your number out to creeps if you don’t wake up right now.” The guy whispered into Bucky’s ear, setting off goose bumps everywhere. His voice smooth and weirdly morphing into a woman’s.

 

_Wait, what?_

Bucky opened his eyes just for them to be attacked by extreme brightness.

“Close the Goddamned drapes, Jesus Christ! They’re there for a reason.”

Natasha stood over Bucky, her face amused and hair seemed to be on fire. Bucky rubbed his eyes, clearly not seeing straight.

 “Sorry to disturb your Prince Bucky dreams, geez. Just to let you know you have 30 minutes to be at the diner. Aka 30 mins to prove that fortune right.”

That fortune. The strip of paper that was inside his fortune cookie, which said “Your life will turn for its best soon.” The back taught him how to say love and friendship in Chinese and his apparent lucky numbers were 12, 24 and 60. All even numbers, which meant that he’ll have a non-rocky week according to the waitress. Natasha cheered then, while Bucky remained skeptical. It’s a little known fact that these fortunes were all bull crap, generated in a machine made for capitalistic corporations. He bet that at least a dozen other people all over the country got or will get the same fortune he did. And none of it will come true and thus, didn't matter. 

“You could’ve woken me up earlier Nat!” Bucky said, while tripping all over his comforter at an attempt for a mad dash to the bathroom.

“Isn’t the phrase thank you in your vocabulary? “ Natasha picked up the comforter that was on the floor. “You’re unbelievable. To think that I was friends with you when I was kid.”

 “Oh thank you great Natasha from saving my ass from getting fired on my first day. What would I do without you?”

 “That’s more like it.” Her thin lips formed a smirk.  “Breakfast’s on the countertop!” Grabbing the toast and downing the cup of coffee Nat had graciously prepared for Bucky, he rushed out of the door. “If you pass out at work, who do you think they’re gonna call?” she said every time Bucky tells her that she didn’t have to prepare breakfast for him.

 “Bring Chinese back tonight! That’s what you can do very well without me, since you asked.” Natasha called out before Bucky could close the door, toast in between his teeth.

 Natasha worked from home. All Bucky knew about her job was that she works for an IT company. As a hacker, as a spy, the heck did he know. Once Bucky peeped into her laptop, Natasha got him so drunk that night, he couldn’t remember what he saw. Whatever memory-erasing drug she gave him that night, on top of the alcohol that is, worked total wonders.

 Bucky ran to the subway, hoping that he will reach there in time. After his fall out with the job that he had as a music store assistant, ( _the owner is a total douche, I swear)_ he accepted a job as a waiter at a 70s themed diner on the Upper East Side. The diner was complete with those retro booths with plush red seats, an actual working jukebox and old music records adorned the walls. The floor was fitted with black white tiles and 70s disco played all day long. A nice middle-aged lady ran the place so he doubted douche-y owner problem would arise again.

 The diner is a big contrast to the flashy shops and restaurants around it. It’s a nice contrast actually. It’s homey and warm and promised affordable bills unlike the intimidating high-end restaurants around it. It sat at the corner of the block so there’s ample space too. As a plus side, breakfast all day long, who didn’t like that?

 The bell chimed as Bucky opened the door.

 

_Shake shake shake_

_Shake shake shake_

_Shake your booty_

_Shake your booty!_

 

Shake Shake Shake by KC and The Sunshine Band played in the background and he resisted the temptation to break out to a full dance number right then and there. The heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee and sweet cinnamon rolls tempted his sated stomach. Patrons, mostly the elderly and tourists, were seated at the booths, busying themselves with either newspapers or maps.

 

_Not bad, I guess._

 

“Whoa watch out there” A guy swerved past him, tray loaded with eggs and bacon above his head “do you need a table? I’ll be right back.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of his face. Squarish, a little stubble from that not-close-enough shave, a pair of wide set green eyes. His hair was kept short and styled neatly. Bucky had a strong feeling that it was Clint Barton. The Clint Barton who broke his lamp, trying to shoot a soda can down with an arrow 10 years ago. The Clint Barton who had a huge crush on Natasha throughout high school. The Clint Barton who left to another state in the middle of high school and went under the radar.

 “Clint?”

“Yeah? “ The guy who looked like Clint, or who _is_ Clint turned around. “Wait, how did you know my name?” He asked while serving the eggs and bacon to an old man wearing suspenders.

 

_The fortune taught me how to say friendship in Chinese. Is this even real?_

 

“Maybe he read your name tag.” The old man whispered, not so quietly.

He chuckled, green eyes crinkling. “That went past my head, Mr Jenkins.”

“Or maybe…” Bucky slid over to the table “I’m Bucky and you shot my prized lamp down with an arrow ten years ago.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied Bucky, head to toe. A hint of recognition flickered across his face. “Oh God no. Are you serious?”

“As serious as how the lamp is now probably a ketchup bottle? Yeah I am.” A grin grew on Bucky’s face.

Clint put the tray down and pulled Bucky into a bone-crushing hug.

“Old love rekindling.” The old man that went by Mr Jenkins muttered under his breath, again, not so incoherently or quietly.

The hug instantly ended. Both Bucky and Clint pulled a disgusted face.

“Him?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“Yeah him? You think I was with this trash?” Clint gasped dramatically. “I expected more from you, Mr Jenkins.”

“Watch what you say before I trash talk about you to Natasha.”

Clint’s horror-ed gaze darted to Bucky’s mock threatening face. Complete with the cocky eyebrow raise and the knowing smirk.

“Chat later, eh? I need to report to Collette for my first day of work.”

 I walked towards the brunette wearing a “I use the smoke detector as the timer” apron  “Hi Collette, I came for an interview and a walk through 2 days ago. I-“

 “James!” Collette threw herself at Bucky.

“Nice to see you here! I thought you weren’t coming, I would’ve been really sad because I surely needed the help. I hope you still remember how this place works. Grab an apron from the back and you’re all aboard the Collette Enterprise!”

Bucky went to the back and got an apron, or rather a half apron, because only the bottom half stayed. It was black and _not_ frilly. He didn’t have to wear stockings or a frilly white maid hat as well. He could now go home and tell Nat that she’s wrong. And of course, clear her head out of those sinful maid scenarios that she’s been telling him about all day since he told her he accepted this job.

 After endless order taking, coffee refilling and table clearing, the morning crowd had finally cleared. The diner was much quieter now. More peaceful. Bucky could finally rest his legs. Clint shoved a cup of coffee at him.

 “We don’t have to pay for that?” Bucky asked, motioning at the cup of coffee.

“Nah” Clint spoke into the cup “Meals are on the house as well. As long as you’re working here, you won’t go hungry. Or thirsty in this case.”

“Hmm, that’s great.”

“Yeah it is… So what has it been? 7 years? 8 years?”

“10 you douche.” Bucky said, as-a-matter-of-factly. “Nice job in keeping in touch.”

“Ah sorry man, I was real busy. You know college and taking care of my grandma.” Clint rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Stretching his back, Bucky sighed and then lay across the table “Well at least we’ve reunited, my soulmate.” Bucky looked up at Clint, eyes glassy and hopeful, mouth curved into the sweetest smile.

He rolled his eyes. “Gross.”

 It was then, a blond male walked through the door.

“Welcome to Collette’s!” Clint and Bucky called out like it was muscle memory.

He’s tall. And big. His grey shirt was way too small for him. Small waist and an immaculately broad shoulders. Pecs that screamed freedom and gym. Muscled arms and hands. Sweat pants that somehow showed strong thighs and long legs.

 His face. _His face._ Icy blue eyes that made you feel like you’d just taken that first gulp of chilled lemonade on a hot summer day. Long, thick eyelashes that framed those eyes perfectly to give an innocent look. Plush, pink lips that would look so good, red and swollen after a passionate make-out session. Sharp, masculine jaw line. And the best of all, he looked like the guy from Bucky’s dream. The guy he saved. Bucky hoped he was single and interested in guys because dang, would he climb him like a tree.

 

  _I_ _’m so fucked. Bucky you_ _’re so fucked._

 

Bucky tried to gain his composure but no, it’s never going to happen. He’s the guy from his dream. His face matched the poster boy for wholesome authentic American goodness, if there was one. His body, on the other hand, tells a story of how no human being has ever spent a night with him and walked away feeling horrible and not sore. And Bucky would be more than willing to volunteer himself for that experience. Blondie pulled off the innocent Greek God slash porn star look so well, Bucky’s sold.

 

_Is this the_ _‘love_ _’ the fortune told me about? Nah, this isn't fate but coincidence._


	2. Chapter 2

"Steve!" Collette stood up from behind the cashier.

"How's your run? I'll get you your usual." Collette went up to him and hugged him. _Hugged him._

"Good morning, Collette." a small peck on the cheek, "Yes the usual please." Blondie gave her a smile that made Bucky die a little inside.

"Morning Clint! And the new guy!”

Clint gave Blondie a mock salute while Bucky awkward-waved his way through. Blondie, or Steve, now that Bucky knew his name, walked over to an empty booth, allowing Bucky a full view of that glorious toned ass.

_Man, it's a shame to see him leave but a pleasure to see him go._

"James!" Collette's voice broke the trance that Steve got him in. "Bring this to that table please." She pointed to Steve's table.

Bucky ran his hand through his hair in the hopes of making it less poofy. His hair had 2 extremes, as poofy as a blow-dried poodle or as flat as a wet dog. He blamed his genetics for both of them. He took the plate filled with pancakes, doused with a generous amount of maple syrup. Looks like someone has a sweet tooth.

As he approached the table, Steve was actually sketching.

_Of course he had to be an artist._

His brows were knitted in concentration as he tried to get the shops opposite the diner right- each flower in the flowerpot, each mannequin at the display. It's weirdly calming to watch him work, pencil between graphite stained fingers, fluid motions bringing life onto paper.

"Are those for me?"

"Huh what?" Bucky looked up to see Steve with a stupid smirk on his face, pointing to the plate of pancakes in his hand. "Oh these? Nah, it's for the guy behind you."

He turned around, "But there's no guy behind me" Bucky cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh. Oh..." He let out a small chuckle "So that's how it is?"

"That's how it is" Bucky set the plate on the table. "Enjoy your extremely sweet pancakes, Steve and that's a really nice sketch. That's pure talent right there."

"Oh, I, uh, it’s nothing actually. I’m not that good." Steve rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink.

_Is he serious?_

“What do you mean it’s nothing? It clearly is something! Not much people can express realism in  their sketches that easily. I can show you.” Bucky took the pen and notepad out from the pocket of his apron and drew a thing that he claimed as a dog. “There, that’s a dog right there. Do you get my point now?”

Steve turned the notepad a few times, looking at the drawing at different angles. “It looks like a potato…” He glanced back up at him, the stupid smirk returning. What an adorable puppy. “Yes I get your point new guy. Take every compliment and say thank you for them. Also, that you can’t draw a dog without it looking like a potato.”

I hid the rising bubbles of laughter behind a cough. “Yes that is exactly what I meant. Life’s too short to let compliments go.”

“Bucky! Can you help me out here?” Clint called out from the kitchen.

_First you broke my lamp, now you have to steal my one night stand away?_

I gave an audible sigh and backtracked my way to the kitchen. “Looks like I have to go.” 

“So your name is Bucky, huh? See you round’! Uh wait there’s a-“

Too late.

“Fuck!” Bucky mumbled under his breath, rubbing the back of his thigh. A table was in the way and he had glamorously knocked into it, almost losing his balance and bending over it. Yeah, because falling over a table was a good trick to get someone into bed with you.

Steve was in that awkward position- half standing, half sitting, prepared to help Bucky up in case he fell.

“Table” Bucky completed Steve’s sentence “Well, that’s my aesthetic you know, bending over tables.” He gave him a little wink and sauntered off, making sure to sway his hips a little more. Bucky swore he saw Steve turn beet red.

★

 

Steve was truly caught off guard by that last comment. It’s not because he didn’t think that the waiter that go by Bucky (who names their kid Bucky?) was attractive- hell, he _is_ extremely attractive with that sky blue eyes and expressive mouth, but because he wasn’t used to guys like that flirting so openly with him.

Sam always said that it’s because he wasn’t interested and therefore, wasn’t hypersensitive to advancements. Steve, on the flip side, thought it was more of him not believing that someone was interested in him _in that way._ After all, he had spent a good part of his life being a sickly wallflower. It was only when he took Dr Erskine’s, Bruce Banner’s close friend, experimental drugs did his sickness began to cut him some slack. Puberty, constant exercise and routine medication and supplements helped him to be in the shape that he is, a Dorito beefcake sex on a stick as Sam liked to call it. Steve being his humbled self never considered himself to be a “sex on a stick.” He believed that anyone is capable of achieving his body shape.

Steve found himself slack-jawed at Bucky’s hip sway. Sinful thoughts took over his head.

_Steve, you’re better than this._

He resorted to finishing up the sketch that he was doing before _he_ came by. Something he was familiar with, something that wasn’t in uncharted waters.

★

 

“You called me in to do dishes?!” Bucky half screamed at an obviously smug Clint.

“Uh I was lonely?” said Clint, tossing a pair of gloves to Bucky.

Bucky was lost between wanting face palm himself or sending Clint back to whichever planet he came from. “No you weren’t lonely. You just wanted to cockblock me so that I don’t get laid and accompany your sorry ass tonight. That’s your reason.”

Clint’s eyes grew wide in response. The plate in his hands sank into the soapy water and he advanced closer to Bucky’s face. “No way…” he gasped. “Steve?”

“Clint, personal space.” Clint backed off, palms in the air. “Yeah Steve, what’s up with him anyway?”

The childish shocked look hasn’t washed away from Clint’s face yet. “What’s up with him? What’s _up_ with _him?_ Well, number one, I don’t think he’s into one-night stands, I mean if you haven’t noticed his ridiculously innocent face.” Bucky nodded in agreement. “Number two, rumor has it, his mom saved this diner.” Murmured Clint.

“Saved?”

“Yeah, when Collette got divorced a few years ago, her husband almost took this diner away from her, which totally sucked of course, considering that Collette worked her ass off starting this diner from scratch.” Clint picked up the plate and began scrubbing again. “Steve’s mom, a regular and a dear friend of Collette back then, saved this diner by being Collette’s lawyer during the divorce process.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement. “So Steve is most likely a loaded lawyer with his life figured out too huh?”

“I suppose so.”

“You do know that him being a lawyer won’t stop me from sucking his dick, right?”

Clint sighed in response “I guess proper dating never crossed your head.”

It had. Bucky had a proper boyfriend before. A proper boyfriend who made him feel he’s unworthy of love, that he’s just an object meant to please everyone he met. A proper boyfriend who took advantage of his position to get him to do things he would never have done. He manipulated Bucky’s trust and Bucky was too broken to see that. After that experience, he never quite got back to his own 2 feet.

“Yeah, never did.” said Bucky, smiling, sweeping the thoughts under the rug.

 

★

 

“Did you bring my favorites?” Nat asked as soon as Bucky opened the front door. The smell of fried rice and Kung Pao chicken wafted through the air. Nat was sitting at her desk, typing furiously on her laptop. Definitely a hacker.

“Yeah I did, it’s still warm too.” Bucky replied.

Nat stood up from her desk and closed her laptop.

“So how’s first day of work? Any douches worth killing?” Nat said while setting the table.

“It was good.” The food boxes were a bitch to open. Why won’t they budge?

“Can you go gentle on the boxes? I don’t want Chinese food to go all over the place. And I know you can do better than that.”

“Okay fine, Collette is bearable and the diner is lively. Clint Barton was there too.”

Nat laughed, a warm hearty laugh. “Clint Barton? The guy who broke your lamp pretending he was Hawkeye in high school or something? That’s unexpected. But see, the fortune is right.” Her chopsticks were making imaginary swirls in the air.

Bucky rolled his eyes though he had a fond smile plastered on his face. “Don’t think meeting Clint Barton is under you’ll have a lovely week.”

“Whatever you say. Both of you were like best buddies, even I felt threatened by him. Thought he was gonna take you away from me.” she punched Bucky’s arm playfully.

“God Nat, when did you become so sappy? I met a guy by the way, his name’s Steve. Pretty sure he’s a lawyer. I wanna suck his dick but I don’t think he’s that type.” uttered Bucky nonchalantly.

“Didn’t need that last information but okay” she spoke in mid-chew, “What is he like? When am I gonna meet him?”

“He looks like those Greek sculptures in the art museum. Sparkling blue eyes, innocent face, hot as fuck and no one’s meeting anyone, Nat. He doesn’t deserve me. He has his life all figured out while I’m sitting here on my sorry ass being a burden to you and the socie-“ Nat’s hand flung across Bucky’s cheek. “Ouch, what was that for?!”

“We talked about this before. You are not a burden. Never were. I am here because I care about you and you are literally my asshole brother. You are worth every single second of my life and you are such a joy to be with.” Nat cupped Bucky’s cheek, looking intently into his eyes. “Don’t let your history dictate how you live your life now, Bucky. The people in the past were total fuckheads and _they_ didn’t deserve _you._ ”

Bucky gave her a sad smile, “Thanks for being here for me, you know since we were young and stuff.”

She dismissed his comment with a wave, “You were fun to be with anyway”

They continued their meal in comfortable silence. Bucky could hear the faint traffic below, New Yorkers honking at each other, trying to get to their loved ones as fast as possible. The young couple next door was attending to their wailing baby. A family across the hall was having a fight over monopoly. Bucky felt terribly lonely. Yes he had Natasha and Clint too, now that he had came back from the dead, but he wondered if there was someone who would cuddle with him while watching bad TV, someone who can kiss him and tell him that he wasn’t a mistake and he would believe them completely. Bucky wondered if he would ever have a loving domestic relationship, with a husband and kids.

Nat pushed her chair back and went into the kitchen. “Maybe we should go somewhere tomorrow night? Have some fun.” Bucky could hear the scraping of plates.

“Oh yeah, Clint asked us out earlier on. The Snake Hole Lounge at 9.”

Nat hummed in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is up! Merry Christmas eve peeps~


	3. Chapter 3

 

Arms pumping, Steve quickened his pace to close up the gap between him and Sam.

"Don't you dare say it Rogers" he flashed Sam a quick smile "Don't you dare!"

Between huffs he managed to squeeze out, "On your left." Way ahead of Sam he was now.

"Aw come on!" Sam whined. If only he wasn't running, Steve knew he would've stomped his feet and threw a tantrum like a child. Sam absolutely hated it when he said those 3 words. And the best thing was, Steve knew that well. But that was what made Steve, Steve. The little punk he always was.

Steve slowed down as soon as he approached his most favourite bench in Central Park, the one nearest to the lake and their official rest stop. He sat down, allowing his body to replenish the oxygen debt it has incurred. The right amount of sunlight filtered through the reddening canopy of the oak tree that sheltered the bench, casting leaf-like shadows on Steve's face, gentle breeze caressing his flushed cheeks. He could see a family of ducks swimming lazily along the banks of the lake, little fluffs of yellow following through in a straight line behind their mother. A passing boat carrying the laughter of children on board. A little squirrel, cheeks full with nuts, appeared right to the bench.

"Oh hey there Nick, where's Ben?" Steve spoke in a hushed tone, fearing that Sam would see him talking to a squirrel. More ammunition for their frequent snark wars. Yes, 2 grown men have snark wars and yes, Steve named the squirrels in the area. Nick the squirrel made squirrel noises and 2 much smaller squirrels; Ben and Kathy came scurrying from behind the tree. It was one of the reasons why Steve loved this bench so much, a family of squirrels that loved him in the vicinity, as much as how stupid it sounds. 

"Dude," a voice tore through his telepathic conversation with Ben. "I think you should find another running partner, if that's what you called running." 

"Why? Too much for you?" Steve looked up through his long lashes.

"Quit the innocent play, you're not even running! You're like, I don't know, do you have built-in rockets in your shoes?" 

"Oh Sam," Steve stood up "It's called stamina." With that, he took off for another run, leaving Sam with a dumb look on his face. 

Sam shook his head, hands on hips, a grin on his face. "Captain Small Ass!"

Both of them now ran side by side, at a much slower pace.  _For Sam's sake,_ as how Steve liked to put it. They ran in comfortable silence-- talking while running weren't their forte-- footsteps echoed behind them, breaths came in quick huffs and puffs. Steve took the time to people watch. Runners going in the opposite direction, tourists taking pictures of the Belvedere Castle nearby, parents lagging behind their overexcited children, elderly feeding the pigeons and getting angry when they came too close, a couple snuggling together drinking their daily dose of coffee. Steve took a double take. The one with the fancy beard tucked comfortably underneath the one with a lopsided bun. Wind swept through the trees and crimson leaves fell perfectly around them, drifting down slowly. Lopsided bun planted a soft kiss on the crown of fancy beard's head. Fancy beard smiled warmly, eyes soft and had a happy glint to them, conveying how he felt right then and there. Loved and safe, probably. They looked blissfully content with the situation, all soft eyes and warm smiles. The look that was reserved for each other. The other half. The missing puzzle piece. Steve couldn't help but to feel oddly fuzzy and warm inside, as if there was a fluffy blanket hugging his soul. 

"I wonder if Bucky likes to snuggle..." He mumbled. As soon as he realised what he had just said, he folded his lips, wanting to eat the spoken words back up and preventing anymore from coming out. Steve could feel the burning gaze of Sam's, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

"What was that?" 

Silence. The echoes of their footsteps seemed to be amplified. Sam was slowing down. Steve contemplated on running away. 

"I heard a name. Becky? Ducky?" Sam caught hold of his arm, locking him in there.

 

_Play it cool, Steve._

 

His hands gestured meaninglessly in front of him as if they were trying to do the talking. Steve tried to form the right words, calculated steps to keep it brief and simple. Nothing came to mind except for "No his name is Bucky, he has an adorable smile and I wanna marry him and make him happy all my life." 

And that was what he said.

 

_So much for playing it cool._

 

Steve felt like slapping himself. His brain tends to shut down when he needed it the most. He braced himself for the onslaught of questions that were coming his way. Sam had been trying to set him up with the grocer's daughter near his block, the assistant manager of the Metropolitan Museum of Arts-- where he used to work and the place he met Sam-- and even his own cousin. Steve being Steve appreciated the effort and went on dates with every single one of them, then telling Sam that he didn't think it was gonna work out. It's not that Steve needed the setting up (he had plenty of connections being the chief financial officer of his mom's firm. Him not being a lawyer was met with strong opposition from his late father. Steve’s whole family were lawyers and Steve pursuing finance was just not an option.), Steve simply thought that a relationship wasn't what he wanted, wasn't what he was built for. He had his mom’s firm to manage and plus, he was content with seeing the people he cared about finding the happiness in another person. That was until he met Bucky. From that first conversation, Steve knew he was sold. He was the second person-- first was Sam-- who actually told him off for putting himself down, something he did out of habit since young for certain reasons. Nobody had actually cared as they usually shrugged his self-deprecating comment off. So now, that he himself had voluntarily squeezed out a romantically interesting situation, he had to definitely brace himself. 

"Hm? Oh cool." Sam started to jog again. 

Steve gave him a puzzled look. "That's it?" He followed suit. "You don't want to know more? You don't want to know more about _Bucky_? How when he smiles, he smiles with his eyes? How he makes me feel like my bones are on fire when he laughs? The way how  _ungodly_ his hips sway? Nothing?" He desperately called out after Sam. Yep, Steve's brain's filtering function was definitely screwed up. 

Sam looked back, smug. "You already did."

"I did?" 

 

_I did._

_"_ Reverse psychology man. Works like wonders."

Steve was at loss words, trying hard to register what had happened. Sam, man... nobody could tell what's going on in that small head of his.

"Late night pizza on Saturday is still on right?" 

"Uh, yeah" He's still waiting for the gears in his brain to make that definitive click. When it did, "Hey! That's unfair!" Sam already made his quick getaway.

 

★

 

Bucky checked his outfit out in the mirror. He was wearing a white shirt that clings nicely to his toned chest, underneath a dark denim jacket that was rolled at the cuffs. He paired it with black jeans, the pair that was tight and hugged his ass. His short hair was styled to create that suave look, no stubble on his chin. Bucky had to say that he actually looked good tonight.

“Nat! You done? We’ve got to go.” Bucky knocked on Nat’s bedroom door.

She came out, stunning as usual. Her shoulder length fiery red hair was in soft curls and she donned on a sleeveless black dress with strappy black heels. Her red lips curled into a teasing smile, “Trying to tempt Clint I see”

Bucky gave a short laugh, “Whatever you say Nat, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

Saturday nightlife in Manhattan was surely chaotic-- one big, beautiful chaos. The streets were packed and clubs alive with dancing and music. Bright neon lights of shops and clubs lured the throng of people in like how moths were attracted to light. Clint was standing outside The Snake Hole Lounge, left leg propped up against the wall.

“Clint!” Nat shouted above the noise.

He immediately glanced to Nat’s direction. Once he realized who he was looking for, Clint bowed his head and smiled sheepishly.

 

_What a love-struck dummy._  

 

"What happened to keeping in touch?! Come here." Nat opened her arms to coax him into her embrace. "Have you been working out?"

"Yeah, Clint. Have you been working out?" Bucky teased. He sure loved being the only one who knew the full picture. Clint had a crush on Nat since the day he knew her, and from the looks of it, he seemed to be still in love with her. Nat on the other hand saw Clint as another pesky little brother. But then again, one would never know her real feelings because Clint, being the "shy douchebag" (as Bucky likes to say) he was, never dared to come clean.

 "Wow you noticed? I thought no one was going to say anything bout these new guns" Clint responded, flexing and clearly trying too hard.

Nat moaned, "God, why did we even come. I forgot that he was such an embarrassment." 

Bucky felt the full blast of the club's atmosphere as music pumped in his ears, urging him to join the silhouettes on the dance floor as the strobe lights danced around them. The smoke machine was switched on, making the place look mysteriously inviting, urging clubbers to step into another realm. The three of them pushed through the pulsating throng and found themselves a spot at the second floor bar, overlooking the dance floor. 

"Martini, please." Bucky told the bar tender who gave him a curt nod. Nat and Clint ordered themselves a glass of gin and tonic and scotch respectively. 

"So, what made you move back to the big apple?" asked Nat, sipping her drink, lips staining the glass red. 

"My grandma passed away a year ago and there's nothing in Iowa holding me back, you know?" Clint was orphaned when he was a sophomore in high school. Both of his parents died in a fateful car accident and the custody of him went to his grandma. He had no choice to go back to Iowa, his birthplace. 

"Oh shit, we're so sorry Clint." Bucky voiced out. The light atmosphere clearly dissipated with the news. 

"I killed the mood, didn't I? Thanks anyway. She lived a good long life, I don't think she regretted anything she did before." Clint took another sip of his scotch, downing the past with it. "What made you guys move to Manhattan? Thought you guys were gonna stay in Brooklyn till you're old and wrinkly." 

Nat gave an audible sigh, "I got a job at an IT company here and mom passed away a few years ago as well. We both thought staying in Brooklyn would make things harder for both of us so we moved to Manhattan." 

"Man, now I'm the one who's sorry." Clint rubbed his face, "Bless her soul, she was such an awesome mom. My first sip of vodka was from her, remember that? Christmas party when we were freshmen, she just took the vodka from the alcohol cabinet and gave us shots. I never told my parents about it." 

"Russians." said Bucky. All of them gave a lighthearted laugh.

"So we just have each other now, huh?" 

"I guess so. Should I put you guys in my will then?" replied Clint teasingly.

Nat chuckled. "Make sure I get the good stuff!"

“Oh Nat,” Bucky put an arm over her shoulder. “You don’t know how much he loves you.” Bucky swore he could feel the death glares that Clint was giving him.

Clint shifted in his seat, “Shall we make a toast?” he asked, raising his glass.

“To us.”

“To us!”

 

_The only people I have._

The rest of the night was spent drinking shots after shots, beer after beer, talking about old times. Talking about how easy it was when they were younger. How they would kill to relive it. Clint and Nat were now laughing at each other’s faces, talking about the weird ass teacher they had in freshman year. Bucky wasn’t in that class so he didn’t get what they were talking about and could only smile along. He looked at the time. 10 o’clock. He gulped another shot of vodka. The alcohol burned his throat as it flowed down. Bucky wasn’t exactly drunk but he sure was getting there. He still could walk like a normal person so he should be fine.

Suddenly Clint and Nat stood up.

“Remember to use protection!” Bucky called out after them, lips curled into a teasing smirk. Clint grew bright red and no, it wasn’t the alcohol working.

“We’re not having sex!” Nat gave him her “the fuck are you saying look”. “We’re gonna go down and dance. Come on let’s go!” She tugged on Bucky’s wrist, forcing him to stand up and follow them down.

The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies moving together at the beat of the music. The bass dropped and the crowd goes wild, hollering and whistling. Nat and Clint miraculously fought their way through the centre of the crowd and began jumping around, in sync with the crowd. She looked happy and truly free, partly because of the alcohol that's pumping through her veins at that moment. It's been quite a long time since the both of them let their hair down like this. Their days off were spent watching Disney movies and arguing about them.

Bucky inhaled the intoxicating mix of smoke, sweat and alcohol and let the music control his body. It was all fine till someone began dancing behind him, hands rough yet sensually stroking his body underneath his shirt. Bucky could feel the stubble of the stranger's chin on his neck, his hot breath against his skin. 

"Why not we end this night with a bang, baby doll?" the stranger whispered into his ear. Bucky froze. It felt too much like Brock Rumlow. Nights of drunken rough sex flashed before his eyes. Brock Rumlow would find ways to guilt trip Bucky into drinking and sleeping with him, never once considering the fact that he was human. Bucky was just a mere plaything - never quite worthy of love and genuine affection. Not only that, Brock found a way to put him in the centre of Bucky's life. The worst thing was that Bucky let him and never quite realised that Brock was poison to his soul. It's been 3 years since he found the courage to break up with Brock but the memories, the wounds were still fresh. Brock's last words rang in his ears. 

 

_"You need me Bucky. You're nothing without me."_

_"Shut the fuck up and get out of my face!"_

_"Look at you, a crying mess. Do you think anyone would want you? Even your parents hated you!"_

 

Brock always hit where it hurts. He knew every insecurity that Bucky had and he used it all to his advantage. Bucky felt his airway constricting. His surroundings now looked like a watery blur and his brain pounded- as if it was egging him on to release the pent up tension. 

_Don't cry. Don't fucking cry._

 

He choked back his tears and wiped his cheeks. 

"Get the fuck off me." Bucky snarled and jostled his way out of the club. 

"Your loss!" 

The bodies in his way were like boulders- unrelenting to let him go. Curses followed him as he pushed his way out. Bucky took a deep breath of fresh air but his nerves weren't meant to be calmed down. He could be feel his body trembling. Jogging to the nearest alley, he slid down the wall as tears rolled down his cheek. The peals of laughter from the restaurant near by echoed of the walls, mocking Bucky. 

 

_A child. That's what you are, Bucky._

_Shut up._

_But you know that's true. Mom and dad wouldn't have left you if you weren't such a child._

 

Now that he was alone, Bucky cried. He cried long and hard. Chest heaving, struggling to take in shallow jagged breaths. The tears won't slow down. Everything ached. It ached so badly, Bucky felt paralyzed.

He heard footsteps. "Are you okay?" 

Everything was a blur behind his tears. But he could roughly make out, through patches of the glaring streetlight what was in front of him. It was Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I was just so busy and i was overseas as well. I tried to upload it on mobile and it messed up my formatting... Anyway, the good thing is that chapter 3 is here. Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a remake of 'out of my league' that i previously did and deleted bc it was poorly planned. ((i'm such a dumb ass))  
> Also, this my first fic that i've posted here, hope you like it!  
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments if you think i deserve it :) or if tumblr is your thing, you can leave comments about the fic ((or if you simply wanna talk to me which is quite rare)) at squareggs.tumblr.com


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